


an echoing scream

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets, part ii. [28]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Dead Allison Argent, Established Relationship, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Last Kiss, Missing Scene, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 00:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14508441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: In the days after Allison dies, there’s a single moment, overwhelming both in its simplicity and its clarity, that Lydia finds herself lured into reliving, as surely as if it was sung to her by a siren.





	an echoing scream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aweekofsaturdays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aweekofsaturdays/gifts).



> this was written for the prompt "Kiss prompts: 10 (Quick, Goodbye Kiss - It’s the almost late for work kisses when their lips just peck yours, like an unfinished goodbye) + Allydia." I don't even like writing angst, and I won't even reblog gifsets that have Allison dying in them and yet... this happened. I'm so sorry.

In the days after Allison dies- 

(in the days after Lydia _feels_ her die)

-during the long stretch of time where all Lydia can taste in the back of her throat is sour grief and all she can hear in the vastness of her mind is her own desperate screams echoing back at her, there’s a single moment, overwhelming both in its simplicity and its clarity, that occasionally intrudes through the fog, that she finds herself lured into reliving as surely as if it was sung to her by a siren. 

When she closes her eyes and succumbs to it, it’s like she’s there all over again. 

&.

“I have to go.” 

“Allison, what you need is more sleep,” Lydia says, blinking open her eyes to the faint light of dawn and pushing herself up to lean back against her headboard. Allison is sitting on the edge of the mattress, tugging on her jeans. Her torso is still bare, and there are bruises littering her alabaster skin, dark patches of yellow and purple staining her ribs and shoulders from fighting Isaac and the twins. Lydia understands why she’s in such a rush; every second that passes is a second they could use to fight the nogitsune, a second that could somehow be put to use.

But none of those seconds are going to be useful if they’re all too beaten up and worn down to do anything. 

“Probably,” Allison concedes. When she leans over to grab her bra and shirt off Lydia’s floor, the knobs of her spine jut against her taut skin. Once she’s pulled her clothes back on, she turns and draws her knees back onto the bed. A soft smile, utterly gorgeous and resigned and painful all at once, creases her lips as she reaches out and brushes a piece of Lydia’s hair away from her face with calloused fingers. “But not all of us are three weeks ahead in class, and I can’t fail. Not even with all of this happening.” 

“I can help you with it,” Lydia says, sliding forward until their sides are pressed together. “Two heads are better than one, right?” Allison’s smile grows a little, becomes more genuine, and for a few seconds, Lydia almost manages to trick herself into believing that this is a normal morning, that there’s nothing more daunting awaiting them than exams and projects. 

But those seconds pass by quickly. 

“You’re right,” Allison laughs, carefully skimming her fingers down Lydia’s back to the bare curve of her waist. “But it shouldn’t take me too long.” Her lips brush against Lydia’s temple. “You should sleep a little longer. I’ll see you at school.” 

Lydia isn't planning on going back to sleep. As soon as Allison is out of the room, she plans on throwing the blanket aside and getting down to work, digging back into Deaton’s tomes and texts for something useful, a note littered in a margin or a sentence that might give them something to go off. 

She’s sure that Allison knows that that’s exactly what she’s going to do, but the unspoken agreement seems to be that they humor each other. 

“Okay.” She turns her head and brushes her lips against Allison’s quickly, just firm enough to be called a peck, but not deep enough for it to feel like a complete, self-sustaining kiss. 

They can always make up for it later.

“Don’t be late,” she murmurs, tracing the line of Allison’s jaw carefully, detouring around the small circular bruise near her chin. Allison grins, takes Lydia’s hand between both of her own, and kisses a kiss to Lydia’s knuckles. 

“When have you ever known me to be late?” 

It’s the last thing she says before she leaves the room. 

&.

After that, there’s just a series of still photos marking the milestones between the time Allison leaves the room and the time Allison leaves the world. Everything in between is too blurry to comprehend. 

A monster wearing Stiles’ face kidnaps her. 

Her friends come after her, even though she tells them not to with everything she has, leaves behind clues in every possible way, practically screams it from the rooftops. 

One of the oni crumbles into dust, while another drives a sword through Allison’s stomach, and Lydia feels it pierce her own. 

All of those moments replay in her mind over and over again, but the kiss always comes back, and of all the moments, it’s the kiss that she wishes that she could erase from her memory. 

If she’d known it was going to be their last, she would have held on longer. 

(All of those moments are going to stay with her for the rest of her life, but she suspects that the kiss is going to be the loudest, most pervasive moment of them all.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
